


reflexes, protection

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, spoilers for the gencon live show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 04:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20576489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Bo and Cup, before and after.





	1. First Meeting

Herringbone is Bo's dog, but he was Cup's friend first. Cup likes to say that Herringbone introduced him to Bo. Bo, if he's in earshot, usually insists that they were both already in the Black Slacks when they met, and so did not need to be introduced to one another. 

"Yeah but we weren't  _ friends, _ " says Cup. 

Herringbone barks, which Cup likes to think is him agreeing. He ruffles Herringbone's short fur, grinning down at him. 

Bo opens his mouth and then closes it again. This means that Cup has won the argument.

If they're in front of someone else, as they often are, they sometimes get asked about how that introduction went. Bo usually makes up something as mundane as possible, he was walking Herringbone and Herringbone stopped in front of his (Bo sighs)  _ friend  _ Cup.

Cup usually just keeps his mouth shut. It's much better if people don't know. It helps him keep being underestimated. 

The truth is, it was a little embarrassing. 

He got stuck in a wall, once. 

He was new to the whole being able to be a ghost thing at the time, in itself a long story that would take far too much time for Cup to explain in the length of a normal conversation. He'd tried floating through a wall. After all, that's what ghosts did in stories (and also, it would be an extremely valuable workplace skill, if he could learn to do it).

So he floated into the wall of an old, abandoned-looking house. The wall had a thin crawlspace, just big enough for him to stand without being able to turn around.

Cup has never really been a fan of small spaces. 

He felt the ghost form slip away from him, panic rising the more he felt corporeal, and the more he felt corporeal, the more he began to panic, and then he was gasping for extremely physical breath, trapped inside the wall of a very old, very abandoned house.

The space inside the wall was pitch black and oddly cold, the sensation sinking quickly through his light summer clothes and making him shiver. After a few minutes of wriggling only served to scrape up his chin and hands, he tried calling out. It was a last resort, after all, he'd picked this house because the places around it were either empty or occupied by people he was sure wouldn't respond to weird noises. 

Which is why it was a little surprising, after what felt like hours of yelling, to hear a familiar bark. 

Cup stilled. "Hello?"

There was an answering bark, and the scratching of nails for a moment, and then a familiar ghostly head poked through the wall, spectral tongue tickling his fingers. 

"Wow, buddy, am I glad to see you," said Cup, voice rough.

"Herringbone!" said a voice from outside the wall, "Herringbone, get back here!"

Herringbone's head vanished back into the wall. 

"There you are," continued the voice, "you can't just run off like that!"

The floorboards creaked under the voice's weight. 

"Come on, let's get out of here before we bring the place down."

There was a skittering sound, followed by a scratching on the wall near Cup. 

"What is it boy? Something in there?"

"Yes," said Cup, because he was. 

There was a loud crashing sound, followed by a long curse. 

"Hi?" said Cup. 

"What… Who's there?"

"Depends," said Cup, "who's asking?"

"Uh, the guy who's going to get you out if this wall I guess?"

"Oh well in that case- I'm Cup."

"You're… cup?"

"Yeah, and you are?"

"Bo."

"Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, I guess," said Bo, "hey, listen, are you stuck in there? And also,  _ how  _ did you get stuck in there?"

"Well... "

Herringbone barked, and stuck his spectral head through the wall. He barked again. Well, okay, thought Cup, if Herringbone trusts this guy, how bad could he be. Herringbone was a pretty smart dog.

"I'm a ghost," said Cup, "well,  _ some _ times I'm a ghost. I'm not right now."

"Okay…" said Bo slowly, "so does this house have like, anti-ghost stuff on it?"

"No," says Cup, "it's just, like, really cramped-" He took a shallow breath, feeling the clawing panic in his chest rise into his throat, making it hard to breathe. "It's- there's not a lot of room, and I- I-"

"Hey, it's okay, uh, I'll, uh… I could try wrecking the wall?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"What? Why?"

" _ I'm _ in the wall," said Cup. "Also, I think this place would collapse if you did that, and then we really will both be in trouble."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," said Bo.

Cup took a few steadying breaths. If he didn't breathe too deeply his chest didn't touch the wall, which helped him to feel like the walls weren't moving closer. He took another breath carefully in and out. 

Bo knocked on the wall. "Cup? You still there?"

Cup closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of Bo outside. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here, I'm just… I think I can ghost out. I just have to concentrate."

"Okay, cool," said Bo, "just do that then."

Cup made a face. "It's kind of hard to do that when I'm stuck in here."

Herringbone barked, scratching at the wall again.

"Oh, uh." Bo paused, his voice moving closer like he was standing against the wall. "I could try to help? Like, talk to you to take you mind off it?"

"Maybe," said Cup, "I mean, sure. I can't get any  _ more  _ stuck in here."

Bo paused. "So, what should I, uh. What should I talk about?"

"Anything that's not about being stuck in this wall," said Cup.

Bo laughed. Something loosened in Cup's chest at the sound. You could tell a lot about a person about their laugh, whether they were cruel or smart or the law. Bo's laugh sounded kind, which made sense, given he was helping a guy stuck in a wall. It made the space Cup was in seem a little bigger than it had been before.

"Alright," said Bo, "well, I guess I came to Marielda a little while ago, joined up with the Black Slacks-"

"Oh, hey, me too!" said Cup. 

"Hey! Small world," said Bo, "well, small island I guess."

"Whereabouts are you?"

"I'm in Helianthus Parish" said Bo. 

"Oh, hey, I'm right near there," said Cup, "Iris Parish."

"We're like right around the corner from each other!"

"Yeah!" said Cup, "I guess that explains why I see your dog around so much. I thought maybe it was a ghost form thing, you know, like attracts like."

"It could still be that," said Bo, "I mean, I found him because he kept hanging around the Black Slacks headquarters, which he was probably doing because of how into ghosts they are."

"Maybe," said Cup, "So he could do that when you met him?"

"Yeah, it came with the dog."

Cup laughed. 

"What about you?"

"Yeah, I mean, I joined up with them pretty much right after I got here," said Cup. 

"No, I mean, you know," said Bo, "your ghost shit."

"It kind of came with the job," said Cup. 

"Cool," said Bo, "So how do you do it?"

"I just like… I dunno," said Cup, "I just focus, like-"

He closed his eyes, feeling the ghost form well up inside him, like a rush of pins and needles. He tipped forward as the pressure of the wall dissapered from in front of him, making him stumble-float out of the wall. He blinked, feet dropping down to the ground as he opened his eyes. 

"Like that," finished Cup, looking up at Bo, "wow, you're way bigger than you sounded."

Bo laughed. The residual tightness in Cup’s chest melted under the sound.

"And you're exactly the same size as you sounded," said Bo. "That was pretty great!"

"Thanks," said Cup, "I mean, I need more practice, obviously, but-"

"You are going to be unstoppable on jobs," said Bo, "what else can you do?"

"Pick a lock," said Cup, "and I've been told I'm a pretty good talker." He eyed Bo. "What can you do?"

Bo flexed. "Wreck shit."

Cup laughed. 

Bo grinned down at him. "The next job we pull, we should team up."

Cup grinned back. "Yeah, okay. Sounds like we might make a pretty alright team."

“As long as you don’t get stuck anywhere,” said Bo.

Cup waved a hand. “You can just talk me out of it then. Teamwork.”

Herringbone barked, running a circle around them before heading out the door.

“Good idea buddy,” said Bo. He turned to Cup. “You ready to get out here, or is there more ghost shit you need to do?”

“ _ Definitely _ not,” said Cup, with feeling.

Bo laughed. “Well alright.” He paused. “I was going to get lunch before this, you wanna come along?”

“I could eat,” said Cup.

He followed behind Bo out of the building and into the warm sunlight of Marielda.


	2. Before

"You know," said Bo, "if we're going to this fancy auction, you should probably, y'know... "

Cup looked up from where he was playing with Herringbone. "I should probably what?"

"Y'know," said Bo, carefully, "dress up a little."

Cup looked down at his bright yellow shirt. He looked back up at Bo, wrinkling his nose. 

"We're not going to be  _ at  _ the party-"

"Auction."

"Whatever," said Cup, "it's fancy, we won't be there."

"We might have to though, if the knuckleheads from the Six can't get their timing right."

Cup sighed. "I  _ guess _ ." He paused. "How fancy is  _ fancy _ ?"

"Let's see what you have," said Bo. 

Not much, as it turned out. Bo frowned as he rummaged through the travelling case Cup kept his things locked in. Most of his clothes were as brightly coloured as the shirt he had on now, swirling patterns that suited Cup perfectly but probably weren't the best for blending in at a high class auction. 

"Maybe we could buy you something... "

Cup crossed his arms. "I don't want to  _ buy  _ something for the job."

"Why not?"

"One, I might need that money for bribes. Two, if this job gets messed up I don't want to have  _ lost  _ money on it," said Cup, counting off on his fingers, "and three, if I really need fancy clothes I can just knock out someone at the auction and take their's."

"Maybe," said Bo, "I still think- I don't know. If we don't have to knock someone out that probably better, getaway-wise."

Cup stepped forward, putting a hand on Bo's shoulder as he leant over him to rummage a little deeper in the chest. He was always this way, in Bo’s personal space faster than Bo could step away. Curiously, Bo found he didn’t mind it as much when Cup did it. Cup hadn’t stabbed him in the back yet, although Bo had no doubt that even if he  _ did _ Cup would be able to talk him out of being mad about it.

"I've got, uh… I had something from some street festival or something in here that might work…" said Cup.

Cup pulled out a robe made of floaty green fabric, almost gauzy enough to be sheer. He held it up to himself, the afternoon sunlight making his hair look more gold than usual, catching on his eyelashes.

There had been a mural, in the small chapel in the village Bo had grown up in, before he’d come to Marielda. He couldn’t remember what it had depicted - someone bringing written language to the people, or law, something else of a grand nature that Bo had never paid too much mind to - but he remembered the man in the painting, golden and beautiful, the sunlight in the painting making the man glow with an ethereal light. 

Bo's mouth, maybe, went a little dry. 

Cup made a face, ruining the effect. "What?"

"Samot," said Bo. 

Cup blinked. "What?"

"You should wear that, style yourself after Samot," said Bo, "after all, the place'll be full of Samothes types."

"I dunno," said Cup, looking down at the fabric. "Doesn't that mean they hate Samot?"

"They feel  _ some  _ kind of way about him, that's for sure," said Bo, "but the guy is known for being the kind of person that fits in at these kinds of things."

"I guess," said Cup. He looked down at the robe, fidgeting with the material. "I'll try it on, you tell me if it's the look."

"What?"

Cup, quick as ever, was already darting behind the screen. "You know, sometimes stuff looks different on."

"Uh. Sure," said Bo.

His throat felt dry again. He sat down on the edge of the bed, then stood up to move to the window, looking out of it for a moment before he turned back, leaning casually on the windowsill.

He cleared his throat once, twice. "Cup?"

"Yeah, give me a second, I always forget this thing has this weird tie-  _ there _ , okay-" Cup let out a breath. "Here."

Cup stepped out from behind the screen. Bo slipped a little in his too-casual posture, catching himself on the wall. 

Cup's hair was loose around his face, flopping a little over one eye in a way that felt more deliberate than his usual chaotic style. The robe wasn't exactly sheer, bit it was transparent enough to show the shape of Cup's slim figure like a shadow underneath the cloth. The robe fell to just above his knees, the opening of it secured by a twisting plait of ties, guiding Bo's eyes up Cup's chest to his face. 

His cheeks were a little flushed. Bo's felt the same. 

Bo cleared his throat again. "Yeah, I uh. That'll work."

Cup spun around to face the mirror, the bottom of the robe fluttering around his thighs. Bo quickly became very interested in the maps they'd left on the table. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cup peer at himself in the mirror, ruffling his hair a little, his curls catching the light. 

"I think it needs something, like makeup, or something," said Cup, "Don't fancy types wear makeup?"

"Probably," said Bo, "I don't have anything fancy, but the others might."

"Nah," said Cup, waving a hand, "I think I have some fake gold powder from a thing around here somewhere..." He rummaged in a drawer for a moment before holding up a small pot. "Ah ha!"

Bo nodded. Cup held the pot out to him. 

"No," said Bo, "it's for your disguise."

Cup rolled his eyes. "I know, I need you to put it on me. It's always uneven when I do it."

He'd already brought a stool and was sitting in front of Bo before Bo could say anything. Cup closed his eyes. 

"Uh."

Cup blinked up at him. "Come on Bo, this was your idea. And you always say you’ve got steady hands."

“Yeah, that’s more to do with firing a gun than-” Bo made a gesture that he hoped cover whatever they were doing.

Cup reached up, his hand lightly touching Bo’s wrist. Herringbone trotted over and sat by Cup’s feet.

Cup grinned. “See? Herringbone agrees with me.”

Herringbone, the traitor, barked.

Bo sighed. “Fine.”

Cup closed his eyes, tilting his face up towards Bo. Bo's stomach squirmed. He flexed his hands, and set to work.

He wasn’t the most experienced at this kind of thing, always too big to be of any real help with his siblings makeup or complicated Black Slacks disguises, but he’d seen it done enough that he at least had some idea of where to start. He carefully swiped his finger through the gold dust in the post, biting his lip as he streaked it across the delicate skin of Cup’s eyelids.

Bo was no stranger to feeling  _ big _ , he’d made something of a career out of it after all. But gently holding Cup’s face as he carefully marked his face was something else entirely. He found he kept holding his breath, hyper away of his body’s movements.

Cup seemed completely at ease on his part, his body relaxed under Bo’s hands.

Bo leant back, noting the curious delay in Cup’s eyes fluttering open

He cleared his throat. “I think you’re done?”

Cup twisted to look in the mirror, the fabric of the robe emphasising the turn in a way that his ordinary clothes normally disguised. Bo’s toes curled in his boots.

Cup turned back to him, grinning. “It’s  _ perfect _ .”

“Yeah, no problem,” said Bo, glad that his voice held steady despite his dry throat.

Cup turned back to the mirror, making a face at his reflection. “It’s kind of a shame this is the disguise, I won’t be able to take nearly as much stuff with me as I usually do.”

“You could- oh,” said Bo, “I think I have something for that.”

He felt through the pockets of his jacket until he found the brass knuckles. He’d been meaning to give them to Cup anyway, they were far too small for him to use. He held them out to Cup.

Cup grinned up at him, delighted. “Cool! Thanks.”

He held out a hand, and Bo slid them onto his fingers without thinking, feeling himself flush as the movement brought them closer.

“Now I feel kind of bad,” said Cup, “I don’t have anything for you.”

“You can get me back later.”

Cup’s grin widened. “Okay. Okay I will.”

He spun away, his movements as quick as ever, pulling other things out for their use later that night, talking too fast for Bo to get a word in edgewise until Bo had quite forgotten the glint in Cup’s eye.


	3. After

“I can’t  _ believe  _ you did that,” said Cup.

His hands fluttered over Bo’s chest, the fabric of his shirt cut away so that Cup could get to the scattered bullet wounds across his skin. The Black Slacks healer had already come by, cleaning up the more threatening wounds and leaving various salves and tonics behind. There wasn’t really much left for Cup to fuss over, but fuss he was.

“Of course I did,” said Bo, “that’s my job, remember. S’not like you were exactly wearing anything protective on this run.”

“I could have dodged it,” said Cup, “I’m very fast and also, a ghost, sometimes. Ghosts can’t get shot.”

“They can if the person shooting has ectoplasmic bullets.”

Cup made a face “Whatever.” His fingers stopped their movements, coming to rest lightly over the top of Bo’s bandages. “You didn’t have to take the hit for me.”

Bo struggled to sit up a little more in the bed, making a face at the spike of pain before it faded. Cup made a distressed noise, and Bo waved a hand, waiting until Cup had settled a little before he spoke. He was perched on the bed next to Bo, one leg curled up so he could half-lean over Bo.

“Maybe you could have, but I did take the hit,” said Bo, “and I’d do it again, too. So there.”

He expected Cup to laugh, or argue back, fast and deliberately childish in the way he knew made Bo laugh. Instead, Cup’s face turned oddly thoughtful. His fingers twitched on Bo’s chest.

“Other people don’t do that,” said Cup, “for me, I mean.”

“Yeah, well,” said Bo, “other people don’t work with you as much as I do.”

Cup’s face still held that look. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you do.”

Bo’s eyes slid to the torn pages of the First Words sitting on the bedside table. They probably had about half the book, not as valuable as the whole thing but not bad considering they’d gone up against the Six and Samothes himself to get it. His gaze moved back to Cup and he grinned.

“We make a good team,” said Bo, “you talking Gods out of their stuff and me-”

“Taking my bullets for me,” said Cup.

“Something like that,” said Bo.

He reached up, putting a hand over Cup’s where they lay on his chest. There was a beat where neither of them spoke, the only sound the faint noise from the street outside. Cup’s lips parted slightly, the only signal of motion before he leant down, kissing Bo.

It always took Bo a little longer to react than Cup, but they were often of the same mindset. It was what made them such a good team over the years they’d known each other. This moment was no different - Bo felt Cup begin to pull away and he pushed himself up a little to continue the kiss. Cups gasped, and the kiss deepened, although which one of them did it Bo wasn’t sure. It didn’t particularly matter to him in the moment, only that it didn’t stop.

Cup tilted forward a little too much, the pressure on his chest making Bo wince. Cup pulled back immediately, his hands still curled around the frayed edges of Bo’s shirt.

“Shit, sorry-”

Bo slid a hand around the back of Cup’s neck, making Cup’s voice stutter to a stop, which was absolutely something he would have to make sure to remember for a later date.

“It’s fine,” said Bo. He pressed a little on the back of Cup’s neck, drawing him back down again. “C’mere.”

They kissed again, slowly. Bo could feel the fabric of Cup’s robe brush against the unbandaged skin of his chest and he shivered, following Cup’s lips as he began to draw back. He slid his hands down Cup’s slim form, guiding him further on the bed, until he was straddling Bo.

“Wait, wait,” said Cup, drawing back just enough that Bo could feel the puff of air against his lips as Cup spoke. “Didn’t the healer say you had to rest this week?”

Bo shrugged, as well as he could manage to with the bandages. It probably didnd’t help his cause that the motion made him wince.

“We’re not doing anything that’s not restful,” said Cup, purposefully sliding himself further down Bo’s thighs, away from anywhere Bo might particularly want friction at the present moment.

“Come on-”

“No,” said Cup. His gaze dropped to Bo’s chest, following his fingers as they ran along the edge of a bandage. “I’m not having you get  _ more _ hurt because of me.”

“I’d do it again,” said Bo.

He was surprised to find he meant it. Cup often surprised him in that way, ever since he burst out of a wall and into Bo’s life.

Cup leant forward again, his position slightly awkward as their lips meet. This kiss was slow, deepening and then retreating in a lazy pattern that made Bo dizzy.

Eventually Cup leant back. “You should sleep.”

“So should you,” said Bo.

He tugged Cup, pulling him down beside him in the bed and grinning at Cup’s huff of laughter.

“Wait,” said Cup, “let me-”

He reached for the torn pages of Samothes’s book, pulling it close to his chest.

“I don’t want it to get stolen in the night after all that,” said Cup.

Bo nodded. He settled back, helping Cup find as close a position to him as possible that didn’t involve Cup putting pressure on his chest. From his angle, he could just make out a few lines of the First Words before they were covered by Cup’s arm. Bo smiled, shifting a little to pull Cup closer to him.

He doubted that anyone would try and mess with them tonight, but if they did, he’d be ready to protect the most precious thing in Marielda.

And the book too, if it came to that.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
